


Dorian Pavus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts 2: Because the old one is quite full [21]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Demons, Dorian's having a bad day, Gen, Magic, POV Dorian Pavus, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Champions of the Just, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Your Heart Shall Burn, Venatori, What if the Inquisitor left Redcliffe before meeting Dorian, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Prompt 1: Dorian/Cole POV After the events of Champions of the Just/In Hushed Whispers, Dorian or Cole are the ones that alert the Inquisitor to the incoming attack of the Red Templars/Mages. Write their version of the events- when they realize the attack is coming, and their rush to warn the Inquisition, up to banging on those very gates and making their Introduction.Upon hearing of the Inquisitor's arrival in Redcliffe, Dorian made arrangements to meet them. The Inquisitor didn't show up. What's worse? The Venatori have mobilized the rebel mages into an army. Someone needs to get to Haven and warn the Inquisition.
Series: Reddit Prompts 2: Because the old one is quite full [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918846
Kudos: 2





	Dorian Pavus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

_Fasta vass!_ Felix said that he’d passed the note to the woman these southerners were calling ‘the Herald of Andraste.’ Dorian heaved a sigh and paced the dowdy interior of Redcliffe village’s chantry once again. The main door opening with a protesting creak drew him from his internal grousing. A pair of familiar brown eyes met his. Felix ducked into the room and tried to discreetly close the door with little success; the thing creaked with all the gusto of an elderly fishwife bemoaning an oncoming storm making her joints ache.

“Took you long enough. Is everything alright, Felix?”

“Father fussed over me longer than usual. I had to act as if my sickness was giving me a fit. He was watching me like a hawk for a while.”

Dorian had no words, teasing or otherwise. He was pretty certain he would’ve been every bit the worried father were he in the same position as his old mentor. Instead, he mustered up a small smile. “Well, you managed to shake him off eventually. Did you get my note to that Herald person?”

The other man let out a small chuckle. “You already asked me that, Dorian. Yes, I did. I pressed it right into her hands.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Then why isn’t she here?”

“I cannot really say, my friend. I’ll tell you this, though. She looked less than pleased the moment she laid eyes on my father. She was downright icy once she learned he was a magister. If she were a cat, I suspect her fur would’ve fluffed out in all directions and she would’ve begun hissing.”

Before either one could speak again, the sound of crackling and hissing drew their attention away. Dorian felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw a sickly green crack appear in the middle of the air.

 _Vishante kaffas!_ He stepped in front of Felix and readied his staff, channeling a thread of energy into it, causing the crystal at the top of it to flicker to life. “Go, get out of here! I’ll deal with this! I’ll meet you by the old windmill once I’m done here.”

Felix stared mutely at the flickering crack in the air. Inhuman growling poured into the air from it.

Dorian gave him a hard shove. “Go! Please! I’ll deal with this. Your father and I can agree on one thing at least: we want you safe! I can concentrate better if I’m not having to protect you from whatever creature is going to crawl out of that Maker-forsaken hole!”

Not even a heartbeat after the door shut behind Felix, the green hole in the air grew in size and a form oozed out of it. It was tall, malformed, and seemed to have a single functional eye… an eye the glowed when it caught sight of him. The creature growled and began oozing toward him. _A shade, that is a shade,_ he remembered the name from his studies as an apprentice. Dorian snarled and began channeling more magic into his staff. _Oh, Maker._ _Yet a_ _nother demon here in the waking world._ _Who or what is letting them out of the Fade?_

“I suppose I can’t just ask you to go back home nicely, can I?”

The demon growled and swiped at him with a misshapen hand with too-long fingers tipped with claws. He managed to side-step the assault.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.” He unleashed the power building up in the staff and blasted the shade in the face with a fireball.

**

One demon had turned into six before Dorian finished with the rip in the Veil that appeared inside the little chantry. He hated leaving the rip unattended, but his worry over Felix won out. He’d cast a locking spell on the doors of the chantry before he left. Maker willing, nothing else would crawl out of the hole, but he wasn’t willing to gamble with the lives of the villagers, even if they were southerners. He leaned heavily on his staff as he began walking to what remained of the old windmill that stood at the edge of the village. He could feel that his reserve of mana was down to the last few drops. His body and mind ached for rest or a vial of lyrium potion. He idly wondered why he didn’t see any of the southern mages milling around as he made his way to the village gates. They’d been strutting around like they owned the place since he’d gotten to Redcliffe. Had they been summoned into the arl’s castle for a meeting with Magister Alexius, perhaps?

All thought of a nap or a big bottle of potion fled his mind when he caught sight of Felix pacing to and fro by the windmill, worry etched on to his features. He forced his complaining muscles into a trot and quickly closed the space between himself and his friend.

“Felix, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Felix had a travel bag in his hands. “They’ve left. Father, the Venatori madmen, and the southern mages. They’ve all left!”

“What do you mean? They just up and left the castle? Did they give a reason?” Dorian asked.

Felix swallowed the lump in his throat. “They’re marching off to war, Dorian. They’re heading to a place called Haven. They say their Elder One has demanded that they capture that woman, the one people are calling the Herald.”

 _Kaffas._ Not good, not good in the least! Not even a tiny bit!

“I think you know as well as I do that if this Elder One gets his hands on that woman that people, _a lot of people_ , are going to die.” Felix pulled a vial out of the bag and pushed it into Dorian’s hands. The liquid inside had the telltale light blue glow of lyrium. “Something needs to be done. Something, anything.” He looked pleadingly into Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian eyed the vial for a moment before popping the cork and downing the contents in a single gulp. He could feel his energy returning to him as the concoction worked its way down to his gut. In less grim circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed the light buzzing sensation that sang in his blood for a few seconds before fading away. Felix pushed the bag toward Dorian. Satisfying a brief spike of curiosity, he peeked inside. He spotted some travel rations, poultices, more lyrium potions, an injury kit, a camping knife, and a somewhat faded map.

 _Oh, Alexius. Can’t you see how insane these Venatori are? They have you marching off to do something that WILL spark a war! Whatever happened to your dreams of reforming the Imperium, making it better?_ Dorian shrugged on the pack and pulled his cloak tightly around himself. The cold was only the smallest part of why a shiver ran down his spine. “I suppose someone should find this Herald and her Inquisition and warn them that they have company coming, no?” He shot a smile that did nothing to hide the worry in his eyes Felix’s way.

“Dorian,” Felix briefly caught his arm before he could turn to leave, “Maker watch over you.”

He clasped his friend’s arm in return. “And you. You should get to safety before any of those fanatics start getting suspicious of you.” With that, he broke into a run, murmuring curses in all the tongues he knew.

**

He could feel his heart sinking as he heard the rhythmic stomping of an army on the move. Not only that, but he could feel the faint hum of magic in the air. Normally, it would be a familiar and comforting sensation. But when the source of it was an army of mages and fanatical cultists following some sort of madman? It was anything but. Not for the first time that hour, he cursed both the mountains and the snow that laid upon them for slowing his progress. After whispering a quick fire spell to keep the marrow in his bones from freezing, he pressed on. _Bloody south and its bloody cold climate!_ _Bloody lunatic fanatics! As if demons popping out of thin air w_ _as_ _n’t enough of a problem!_ _Festis bei umo canavarum!_

Several feet behind him, the charred remains of what had once been scouts wearing the same sort of livery as the Venatori who’d skulked around Redcliffe sat smoking. They hadn’t been the first band of scouts he’d stumbled upon in his haste to reach Haven, and he suspected that they wouldn’t be the last. Had it been any other day, he would’ve been deeply offended by the oafs for tearing his cloak, the one he’d purchased before leaving Minrathous for the barbaric south. The band of brutes before them had actually managed to land a few blows on him that still stung, despite taking the time to apply poultices and bandages. That particular day was decidedly not like any before, and so he sighed and prepared to continue his flight.

He took a deep breath and allowed a sliver of his power to fuel the next blink forward. It wasn’t a matter of – poof! – vanishing from one spot and suddenly appearing in another, even if the spell made it seem that way. The truth was that it just made him run a not-short distance in the blink of an eye. Handy, but also tiring, what with the running being done. Once he came to a stop at the top of a hill, he saw what had to be the place called Haven. There were all manner of tents and shanties that looked as if they’d sprouted like mushrooms around a village. _Perhaps there is still time to warn them,_ he lied to himself rather lamely.

A bell began tolling in the village below. He didn’t need to hear the stomping of the army not too far away from him to know that he was too late. Haven’s denizens knew that they were under attack. _Kaffas! Can at least_ _ **one**_ _thing work out in my favor today?_ It would seem there was nothing for it. He would have to find this Herald himself and… what? Try to protect her? Wasn’t she some sort of holy symbol? Wouldn’t she have followers, no, an army to protect her? He bit his lip and scowled. _Father always said if you wanted something done right, do it yourself._ He murmured the spell and blinked forward again, finding himself just shy of the village outskirts.

He wasn’t alone.

“Bow to the Elder One!” a brute in jet black – and very pointy – armor bellowed before lowering his greatsword and charging at Dorian.

The brutes companion seemed less inclined to speak and merely roared in fury and raised his war maul aloft while following his chatty companion.

 _Lovely,_ he thought dryly before summoning up a shimmering barrier to protect himself. It wouldn’t last more than a handful of blows, but he’d take what he could get. _You want to play, do you? Let me show you something really pretty, then!_ Just as the two goons got close enough to swing, he completed his spell. The air around him exploded in a burst of heat and flame. When he dared to open his eyes, he saw that his foes had been blown back and charred from his little explosion. He spied a nearby gate that led to what had to be the heart of the camp and rapped his staff against it. Blast! It was locked and refused to budge!

“If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it!” he called out as he sank down to his knees, at last feeling the strain of all the running and casting he’d been doing for the past several hours.

The sound of the gate creaking open caused him to look up from the dirt path below him. A small woman, one with skin almost like the snow around him and hair as black as night trotted down the steps toward him, a look of concern on her face. The oddest thing, however, was that her left hand glowed with a dull green light. Right on her heels was a strapping blond man in armor, sword drawn and shield on his back. The warrior stepped in front of the woman before she could reach Dorian and eyed him for half a moment with his sword aimed toward him. The man apparently did not view him as a threat as he just as quickly sheathed his weapon.

“Ah! I’m here to warn you. Fashionably late, I’m afraid,” Dorian said as he struggled to his feet. The tall warrior quickly caught Dorian when the mage wobbled and nearly lost his footing. “Mite exhausted. Don’t mind me.”

He took a few breaths to steady himself and got a good look at the woman as he did so. The color of her eyes, a quaint shade of silver, and the aura his magic-sensing could detect readily informed him that this stranger was a mage. He’d bet a sovereign that this was the Herald that the Elder One was after. “There you are. I came to tell you what happened with the mages at Redcliffe. You’re not going to like it. They are under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called the ‘Elder One.’”

The woman winced. Perhaps the names meant something to her? He pointed out the Elder One and its lieutenant standing on a not-too-distant hill watching as their army marched on Haven. He could’ve sworn his eyes were playing tricks on him, as he saw the Herald’s eyes flash an unsettling shade of blue for a moment as she scowled at the warped figure he’d pointed out to her.

“They were already marching on Haven. I risked my life to get here first!”

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” the Herald nearly barked.

‘Cullen’ went on to explain that their settlement was no fortress, shocking exactly no one. He pressed the importance of controlling the battlefield.

The Herald grabbed one of her scouts. “You! Tell Ser Barris that he and his men need to stand ready! We have an army of mages coming down on us and we need them to do what Templars do best!”

The scout swallowed hard, nodded, and took off running. The Herald turned back to Dorian. “Head to the Chantry. There’ll be supplies and healers to check your wounds there. We’ll deal with this… thing knocking down our door.”


End file.
